The Powers That Be Must Be Crazy
by Michelle Solo
Summary: Ever wonder how Spike went from lovesick poet to ruthless killer? Neither did the Scooby Gang, that is, until one of them says something that they're all likely to regret for the rest of their lives. (3/?)
1. The Ramblings of an Ex Poet

Title: The Powers That Be Must Be Crazy

Summary: Ever wonder how Spike went from lovesick poet to ruthless killer? Neither did the Scooby Gang, that is, until someone says something they're likely to regret for the rest of their lives.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours... unless you're Joss.

Spoilers: Season 7 BtVS/ Season 4 AtS.

Feedback: It makes me smile. Please, it's what keeps me going in the writing business.

Author's Note: Now, this was originally planned as a sequel to "If I See One More Apocalypse," but after writing for a while, I realized that it could marvelously as a fic on its own. This one takes place in a different time (*during* Season 7/AtS S4) with all the characters in character. Tara, this time, is gone; Giles is in England; Xander and Anya aren't; Anya's a demon; and Spike's whacked out of his gourd.  


*****  
Chapter One: The Ramblings of an Ex-Poet

*****

"It's pathetic, really, how the mighty fall from grace. Even more so considering how hard they worked to become mighty in the first place.

"They've never seen how I came to be, how I became who I am, and how hard I really fell to be what I am now. Not that they care; they never did. Never will. Never will.

"Will. Will... William. They've never seen who he was, how he rose from the ashes of a broken heart. Not that they care. Nope... They don't care. Not one bit. They'll spend the rest of their days just knowing Spike. What he did while he was in Sunnydale. 

"They don't care how I came to be. Who I was. They see me a broken shell of something once great and glorious."

Silence. "You're right. I never let them see him. Hidden, always hidden. For good reason. Reputations are powerful things to maintain."

More silence, longer this time. "No. No. That can't be." The silence returned. "You're lying!" Silence. "Impossible. How?" The room hushed as the answer was given. "Of course. Wishes are powerful things, you know. Can transport you through time and space, allow you to see things never imagined before when put in the right hands.

"The wish-maker's hands were my undoing; my rebirth. In death brings life, in life brings death. Mother used to tell me that in her lullabies. Haunting lullabies, they were. Haunting when I was young, still learning. 

"She taught me everything. They don't know that either. They never liked her, never wanted to." The silence returned, only to be replied to by a chuckle. "Like mother, like son, they always say. 

"If what you're saying is true, then they'll know soon enough. But they won't want to. Not right away, anyway. But they'll learn. Only when they become a team will they know.

"The course of time never did run smooth." With that cliché, Spike's speech was over and a feeling of clarity filled his mind once more. 

"Spike?"

The bleached vampire appeared from the shadows into Dawn's range of view. 

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one," he replied a little too quickly. "I was talking to no one."

Dawn gave him a crooked smile, much like his own. "And I'm supposed to believe a crazy vampire out of the goodness of my heart?"

"If you want to." Spike looked hard into the young Summers eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be up there learning and not down here teasing lunatic vampires?"

"It's 3:15, Spike. School's been out for fifteen minutes, now." 

Spike crossed his arms and looked down on the teen. "Back in my day," the vampire lectured in an accent he hadn't spoken in since Queen Victoria's reign, "children went home after school and didn't loiter around school grounds."

Dawn laughed at what she thought was an impersonation of a stuffy British guy. "At least I have a home away from school grounds."

"Touchè, Lady Summers," he continued in his Victorian dialect. "Now depart before you begin a battle you're likely to lose." The accent dropped. "I mean it. Go home. This school is built on the Hellmouth and bad things have, and are still, lurking."

"Touchè, Sir William," Dawn mimicked, then did an about face and headed up the stairs toward the door. And as she began to turn the knob-

"Dawn?"

"Yeah?"

"How much of my rambling *did* you hear? Just curious, is all."

She re-imitated Spike's infamous lopsided grin. "'If what you're saying is true, then they'll know soon enough. But they won't want to. Not right away, anyway. But they'll learn. Only when they become a team will they know.'" She paused for the dramatic effect it would create. "'The course of time never did run smooth.'" And, as suddenly as she had entered, the basement door clicked shut. 

That silence returned, but this time no answer lay in it. It was just silence. Blank empty silence. Except for the voices in his head, but they would never go away. 

Without knowing what he was doing, he did the grin Dawn admired him for and shook his head sympathetically. 

"Poor kid doesn't know what's coming." 


	2. Of Bad Mental Images and Coffee Talk

Title: The Powers That Be Must Be Crazy

Summary: Ever wonder how Spike went from lovesick poet to ruthless killer? Neither did the Scooby Gang, that is, until one of them says something they're all likely to regret for the rest of their lives.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours... unless you're Joss.

Spoilers: Season 7 BtVS/ Season 4 AtS.

Feedback: It gives me a happy.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I honestly didn't expect so many so soon... Keep 'em coming!

*****

Chapter Two: Of Bad Mental Images and Coffee Talk

*****

"Question."

Buffy looked up from her desk... what used to be a desk, anyway. Now it was breeding ground for stacks upon stacks of useless papers. She could have sworn that they weren't just papers anymore. They were some sort of contagious disease that spread faster than a cheetah on speed. 

"Shoot."

"How crazed is the vampire in the basement?"

"The one with the waggly tail?"

Dawn squinted in bafflement. It was apparent she hadn't caught the reference whatsoever. "Eh?"

"Never mind." She cocked an eyebrow out of curiosity. "Why do you want to know?"

"Uh..." 

"Were you down there again?"

"Look, last time was a technicality. A hole opened in the bathroom floor. It wasn't my fault."

Hook, line, sinker. "Last time? You've been down there again, haven't you?"

A lesson was to be taught here to Dawn Summers. Never, no matter how much you think you're going to win, ever back talk to your older sibling/legal guardian, especially when said older sibling/guardian is the champion of the people. 

"Uh..." Lack of words wasn't helping. "Erm..."

"I'm waiting, Dawn."

"Yes." The lesson had been taught.

Buffy reciprocated a different sounding sigh. "Didn't I tell you to never go down there? You never know what kind of creepy, crawly Hell beast is just waiting in the shadows to make a meal out of your intestines and I *really* don't want to have to be the one to clean up the mess when he's done."

The mental image formed in Dawn's brain and the brunette shivered. "That's all levels of gross."

The counselor shrugged, then turned away to put more papers in her shoulder bag. "Ignoring you didn't help. Sounding like Mom wasn't working all that well. Threatening to ground you until the third World War didn't seem to pan out either. So I've decided to take the 'mental image' approach to solving your insubordinate behavior." Once all necessary papers were present and accounted for, Buffy flung the satchel over her right shoulder. "And it had better work because you really don't want to know what plan E is."

"What's plan E?"

"You don't want to know." The blonde took steps toward the door and silently urged her younger sister to follow suit. 

"You never answered my question," Dawn pointed out as the sisters strolled down the school hallways in the general direction of the exit. 

"Hm?"

"You never answered my question," she repeated. "How crazy is Spike?"

"Crazy," she answered quite predictably. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why. It's a fairly simple question of questions and I'd like to have it answered."

Dawn had to ponder this a few moments, simply from the fact that not even she knew why she had asked it in the first place.

"Just curious, is all. I mean, when you see someone talking to a wall, you don't automatically think 'Gee, now there's somebody who doesn't belong in a straitjacket.'" Dawn stopped her stride on the sidewalk. "On the other hand, he seemed to be saying something pretty important."

Buffy halted her walking pace and turned to the brunette. "You said it yourself, Dawn. He'd be strapped in a straitjacket if... if..." She shook her head. "Well, I don't know why he isn't, but he belongs in one. Nothing he could be saying, to a *wall* no less, should be taken at all seriously."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Pretty sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"Just checking. I mean, you haven't been the best judgement maker these past few months and I was just mak-"

"I'm sure, Dawn." Buffy patted her sister on her back to get her walking along again. "Can we go home now?"

Dawn sighed and smiled. "Home sounds nice."

And home they went, chatting about how insane and disturbed Dawn's classmates really were.

*****

"This town sucks. There's absolutely no fun to be had." 

"Except for the abundance of heartbroken people who wish nothing more than to turn their cheating boyfriends and deadbeat dads into subterranean worm-like creatures. But, gee, I suppose that *does* get boring for a 122 years young vengeance demon."

"No need for sarcasm, Anyanka," Halfrek admonished, taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee. "I'm just saying that the usual routines getting a bit..." The sentence trailed off as the demon searched for a better word.

"...redundant?"

"Not exactly the word I was looking for, but it'll have to do." The lesser experienced demon looked over at her elder, who was staring the rim of her untouched coffee cup as though it had insulted her somehow. Halfrek picked up Anya's silent fury and ran with it. 

"Oh, this isn't about the worm thing, is it?" No answer. "Oh... Okay. I get it. It's about what Xander said, isn't it?"

The intent staring at the cup shifted to the whites of Halfrek's eyes. Anya remained deathly silent as she tried to burn holes into the brunette's face. If looks could kill... 

"Speaking of Xander... How's the old gang, anyhow? Haven't heard much about 'em since the worm guy." 

"Why do you care?"

"Hey, now that's just not fair. I care about people and their well-being."

"Until you find a flaw in their character and trap their friends and family in a house."

"You know I wouldn't intentionally hurt anybody unless a wish was made on them."

A smile played on the edge of Anya's mouth. "Oh really? Is that a fact?"

Halfrek didn't know what she was getting at, but she didn't like the sound of it. "Yes, it is."

"Then why don't you go tell that to the crazy vampire in the high school basement?" Anya hopped from her stool and patted the younger vengeance demon on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'd appreciate it coming from you."

"A what who where? What are you talking about?" Halfrek's heart sank to her stomach. "No. You're kidding."

"Now why would I kid?" 

One about face later, Anya turned from her companion and exited the Espresso Pump with a little more bounce to her step then she had when she entered. You could go so far as to say she was giddy.

This day wasn't turning out to be so bad after all.


	3. Ain't Nothing But Time

Title: The Powers That Be Must Be Crazy

Summary: Ever wonder how Spike went from lovesick poet to ruthless killer? Neither did the Scooby Gang, that is, until one of them says something they're all likely to regret for the rest of their lives.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours... unless you're Joss.

Feedback: It gives me a happy.

Author's Note: I thought to myself 'Could and would the Powers That Be allow any form of time alteration?' With that reckoning in mind, this chapter was born. And, I know it doesn't seem obvious now, but this is an Angel crossover fiction. I'm just going about it in my own zany way. 

*****

Chapter Three: Ain't Nothing but Time

*****

In a perfect universe, time, space, life and death are matters that should be tampered with in any way, shape or form. In this universe, the not-so-perfect one, there is and always will be some greedy fool who loves to cause chaos for chaos' sake or disrupts the ever-delicate balance for personal or spiritual gain. 

Things like these that angered Chrona, Defender of Time and the other fancy titles the Powers had given her when she was "blessed," to a point where she thought destroying the whole lot of them would do some good for a change. Unfortunately, The Powers That Be, the all-knowing, all-seeing beings in the Universe, forbid such events from happening. 

The Powers. Chrona sometimes wondered if the basis of their "almighty decisions" was for the continuity of Balance ("Good can't survive without an evil to counteract it, vice versa..." Chrona had heard it a billion times before) or simply so they could have a good laugh when they were feeling a bit down.

Standing outside the Head Chambers' main doorway, Chrona had an ominous feeling that the Powers didn't invite her for a little chat over a cup of ambrosia. When you call the Defender of Time, something has got to be up. Or very, very down.

Before eerie thoughts crept into her mind, Chrona heard a booming voice in her head. The Powers believed that they were so celestial that they didn't need any other form of communication other than that of telepathy.

*We are honored by your presence Chronacia, Defender of the River of Time and Protector of Past and Future Events. Please... enter our Chambers.* 

The tremendous luminescent doors dramatically opened inward to reveal the awe-inspiring corridor that was the Head Chambers in the Plane of the Powers That Be (let it be noted that everything in this dimension had to have really long-winded titles that took forever to say, which also got on Chrona's nerves). 

This was only the second time Chrona had ever been allowed within these halls (the first time being when she was called upon to take the roll of Defender) and the sights inside still amazed her. It was truly a Chamber that would rival the Greek Gods and Titans themselves. The mortal or non-champion eye would only see an infinite blinding white light and three indecipherable glimmering gold lights where the three main Powers would be. But if you were a soldier/champion/worker for the Powers, or were of the walking undead, you would get quite a different sight all together. 

Fountains, made from the same "much holier-than-marble" marble, were lined up on either side of the hall as far as the eye could see spewing gallons upon gallons of gold-tinted water. Pillars carved from the marble stretched eye-length, but Chrona wasn't sure why. When one looked up, there was no roof to see; just miles upon miles of that blinding white light with no solid structure formed. Birds of an ethereal nature flew freely among the ivy plants that lined the unstructured white walls. Just before Chrona could take in all the sights the Chamber had to offer young eyes, she was standing before those who had summoned her.

When it came to the visibility of the Powers themselves, not much was different between the mortal and immortal eye. Though an immortal could see all that a mortal could, the Powers still appeared before Chrona as gleaming gold specks of light.

*Chronacia,* the light in the middle, the Head Power, spoke in its own psychological way. *We are honored to have you in this time of crisis.*

Chrona, ceremoniously kneeling before the three beings, rolled her eyes and sighed. "This had better be important," the fair silver-haired Defender grumbled. Chrona wasn't one for talking telepathically and all that other extrasensory gibberish that the Powers had become so keen on doing. She figured that she had been in the mortal world too long to pick up the mind talk now. "I have a River of Time to Defend, you know."

*We are aware of your duties, Chronacia. But your presence before us is much more important at this juncture.*

"Pray tell."

*A wish will soon be made of the utmost importance and your roll in it is key.*

Chrona clenched her jaw. Those cursed vengeance demons had tried and tried again to grant wishes that involved time travel and the changing of past events and, no matter how many times she told D'Hoffryn that such wishes were forbidden by the Code of the Powers, they still tried. But how important could her role be just preventing...?

"You guys have got to be kidding me! You're not actually going to allow one of those wishes to be granted, are you?"

The Powers didn't respond immediately, but Chrona took that as a resounding "yes."

"You three must be crazy."

*Our judgement should not be questioned, Chronacia. Let the wish be granted.*

"I can't!" Chrona protested vehemently. Her knuckles were turning bleached bone white as she tried not to throw her staff at the lights before her. "It goes against the beliefs that I have created for myself. Hell, it goes against the rules you yourselves created for the Universe! Does 'Under no circumstances may past, present or future events be altered in any way' sound familiar?"

*Do not question our judgement...*

"Because it's been so perfect in the past, right? Time alteration can and will create a chaos that cannot be stopped..."

*Not allowing this wish to be granted, Chronacia, will only create further chaos than that of which you speak.*

Chrona furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what the Head Power was implying. "What do you mean?"

The Powers floated in a state of silent contemplation. This annoyed Chrona; it was as if they were planning on not telling her at all. 

"What do you mean? Hey! I'm talking to you three! What do you mean?!"

*You know of whom we speak, Chronacia.*

At first, Chrona had no idea who could be so significant, so crucial that the Powers would abandon the rules they had set. Who in the known Universe could affect a decision so severely that the creeds of Time, Space and Continuity would be thrown to the wind by those who had created them? 

Then, like a punch to the stomach, it hit her. The being should have been obvious to her, considering it was the one being she was supposed to protect the River of Time from. 

"That's impossible! I thought he was never to be released from the Hell Dimensions!"

*He was not released. He escaped.*

"But how?!"

*We believe he had spent so much of his punishment and torment trying to figure out a possible way of breaking from his chains that he found a weakness in Hadeacal's design.*

"Why didn't I hear of this sooner?! I'm the Defender of Time, I should know of these things before they even happen so I can be prepared!"

*We know that you and Hadeacal are close colleagues.*

Chrona's heart fell to her feet and feeling of rising bile formed in her throat. "No..." she managed to choke. "Not..."

*She will be all right. The injuries she sustained were harmful, but not fatal. We did not want you to worry about her welfare.*

While the knowledge that her friend was going to survive was comforting to Chrona, the idea that her arch-nemesis was free from his prison was most certainly not.

"Is he already... somewhere...?"

She could feel the Powers nod even though she couldn't see it. *Unfortunately, he has already made it to three areas in my Memory.*

Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew that this invasion of past events had somehow been her fault. Just several hours before she had been called before the Powers, Chrona had let three beings cross, thinking that they were fellow Defenders, not... "I didn't know... It's all my fault he's creating chaos in your Memory..."

*The being which you refer to can take many shapes and forms, Chronacia. You did not know it was him.*

"I should have."

*Do not blame yourself. If you allow the wish to be granted, he can be stopped.*

Chrona closed her eyes and sighed. She pulled her Staff of Defense closer to her chest. "I understand."

*It puzzles us why he has chosen these three time periods to alter.*

The Defender opened her eyes in surprise. "Why?"

*The Being seems hellbent on one particular individual.* 

"Who?"

*The Bloody.*

"Why?" she inquired once more.

*We cannot see. But if the wish is not granted, his existence will cease and Time as we know it will never be the same.*

Ten minutes ago, Chrona would have flat out refused to do such a thing and walked away without another word on the subject. Now, she knew it was the right thing to do.

"Whom should I let sail the River of Time?"

Without hesitation, the Powers replied, *The Slayer, her White Knight, the Wiccan, and the Key.*


End file.
